


Slow Motion

by dragonflycas



Series: College AU [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drinking, Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, underage technically but they're like 19 so barely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 04:38:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10404117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonflycas/pseuds/dragonflycas
Summary: Sid's teammates take it upon themselves to teach him how to dance, and in the process make Geno's life a whole lot harder.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This is meant to be part of a larger fic but I haven't... written said fic yet so while it can sort of standalone the ending might seem a little awkward. Sorry. This is a birthday gift for Bec, who is awesome and puts up with me yelling au ideas at her and never actually writing any of them.

“I’m only going to keep an eye on you guys,” Sid insists after Flower practically had to pry his fingers from the doorframe. The protests and excuses are routine by now, so the only response is a collective eye roll as the rest of their group moves in to flank him like bodyguards, ensuring he can’t bolt back into his dorm.

For his part Geno throws a long arm around Sid’s shoulders, shaking him lightly. “Will be fun, you see,” he assures cheerfully. Sid’s responding glare is unimpressed, but Geno’s mood can’t be dampened tonight. He’s finally free of midterms and ready to celebrate by getting wasted and dancing.

The party is already crowded by the time they arrive, people spilling out onto the deck and lawn as music thumps from inside. Geno’s not even sure which frat house this is, they all look the same to him. Not that it matters, a party is a party, this one just as full of alcohol and kids making bad decisions as any other. Geno’s height and Sid’s stockiness are used to push their group through the crowd into the kitchen in search of drinks.

“Remember,” Flower says seriously as he pushes a cup that’s mostly rum with a splash of Coke into Sid’s hand. “You have to stay at least one hour. For your own good.”

“For my own good,” Sid repeats flatly, shaking his head as he takes a swig from the drink and grimaces. Geno throws back a shot in turn, mostly to prove he can do it straight-faced. 

“You’re hopeless,” Tanger clucks in disappointment as he concocts something seemingly with a little from every bottle on the counter. Everyone disperses once they get their hands on some alcohol, most of them headed towards the nearest cute girl not already engaged in a conversation. Geno hesitates a moment, raising his eyebrows at Sid, who has stationed himself firmly in a corner of the kitchen and seems disinclined to move. They’re all pretty well acquainted with his wet-blanket approach to parties, but still, Geno doesn’t like leaving him alone and bored while they dance and have fun.

“Go on, I don’t need a babysitter,” Sid waves a hand, shooing Geno in the direction of the living room. He wants to stay, to huddle there in the kitchen and talk to Sid for an hour, which is exactly why he forces himself to turn away, grab another drink, and head right into the middle of the dance floor. 

The place is crowded with moving bodies, no one seeming to particularly care who they’re dancing with because everyone just blends into each other. Geno likes the feeling of being surrounded by people, especially when a girl he’s seen around before flashes him a smile and moves in front of him, inviting his hands on her hips as they sway together. After a while the heat gets stifling and he wants another drink so he detaches himself and wanders back into the kitchen. Sid, of course, is right where they left him.

“Hey G, having fun?”

“More fun than you,” Geno grins back, poking Sid in the side on his way to refill his cup. “You just stand here, like statue.”

“I said hi to a girl from my World Lit class,” Sid protests, frowning.

“Oh wow, so exciting, better tell team.”

“Tell us what?” Duper asks as he walks in, Talbot close behind.

“Sid talk to human girl, say ‘hi,’” Geno relates, tone as serious as if Sid had announced an engagement.

“You were social?!” Duper gasps, pressing a hand to his heart. “My god, it’s a fuckin’ miracle.”

“I hate you all,” Sid sighs, tipping his cup back, which reminds Geno what he came in here for.

“You really only say ‘hi’ to one person in half hour?” he asks as he turns to make himself another drink.

“It’s Sid, are you really surprised?” Geno looks up to find Flower’s joined them, wondering what it is about the hockey team that they always seem to congregate together, even on accident. Then Flower is pressing a shot glass with bright green contents into his hand and declaring, “Team round, c’mon.” Geno shrugs and tosses it back, tasting mint.

“Should dance,” he suggests as he reaches for another, using it to point at Sid accusingly, feeling smug as the captain’s face flushes red. “Is fun, and not have to talk.”

“I- I don’t…” Sid’s face scrunches up as he searches for an explanation, and his teammates collectively roll their eyes.

“Like other humans, we know,” Flower supplies, grabbing Sid in a headlock. “C’mon, dancing is fun!” he shakes him a little, then cocks his head. “You do know how to dance, don’t you?”

Sid just ducks his head and tries to squirm out of Flower’s grip, which is answer enough.

“Jesus, kid, your life is sad.” Flower only hangs on tighter, shaking his head. “Guess it’s up to us.”

“What? Let go of me,” Sid protests, shoving at the arm around his neck to no avail.

“We’re gonna teach you, right guys?” Flower looks around at their gathered teammates. Geno is either too drunk or not drunk enough for this. “Show you some moves.”

“I’ve seen your moves, no thanks.”

“You wound me.” Flower finally lets go of Sid to steal his cup instead. “C’mon, pound back some vodka and get out on the floor.” It’s obvious Sid wants to protest, but it’s not like he has much choice with half his team staring him down. For his part, Geno is trying hard not to think of what it would be like to dance with Sid. He should find a way out of this. Keyword: should. He probably won’t.

“One song,” Sid says finally after gulping from the refilled cup Flower hands him. “And I’m not dancing with a stranger.”

“Don’t worry so much,” Tanger puts in, smirking at Sid. “God wouldn’t give you an ass like that and no rhythm to move it with.” Sid scowls back, punching Tanger in the arm, which only makes him laugh.

“Yeah, gotta learn to shake that moneymaker, Creature!” Duper crows, dodging as Sid attempts another punch. He wobbles, unsteady on his feet, and that only deepens the displeased set of his mouth.

“I hate you all,” he repeats, shaking his head as Flower grabs his arm and drags him towards the dance floor. Everyone else follows and Geno considers hanging back, avoiding a sight he knows will just make his already complicated and ill advised feelings worse, but of course their friends won’t allow that.

“C’mon, Geno!” Talbot yells from the back of the group, waving at him to follow. Geno prays he doesn’t embarrass himself and hurries out after them.

Since their group is made up of half a dozen rather large young men, it’s easy to commandeer a section of the crowded living room for their impromptu lesson. Of course, they’d be a lot better teachers if they weren’t all halfway to wasted.

“Just like,” Flower waves his hands around, shrugging, “move with the beat and stuff.”

“And stuff,” Sid rolls his eyes, obviously the most sober of them all but still pretty tipsy as he gives a put-upon sigh. It’s a commonly heard noise from their captain. “You’re no help at all.”

“Start with swaying,” Tanger suggests as a new song starts up, raising his voice to be heard over the music. “Just like, back and forth, don’t even have to move your feet.” He demonstrates, and everyone sways along with him, even Sid. He doesn’t look happy about it, but it seems easier for him to fall in line with what the rest of them are doing.

He’s barely moving and Geno still can’t help but stare at him, wanting to reach out and wrap an arm around his waist and show him how to move together. There’s a couple teammates between them and the part of him still capable of logic is glad for it. This way he doesn’t have to rely on his own self control, which is wearing thinner and thinner as the alcohol sinks into his bloodstream.

“You just gotta like, start moving more and more,” Talbot shouts at the end of the song. “Y’know, just follow the beat or whatever.”

“It’s easier when you’re dancing with someone,” Duper points out, and even in the dark room Geno can see Sid’s face go white at that, expression immediately twisting inward like someone made him eat a lemon.

“Not make you dance with stranger,” he promises before Sid can protest. “You already say.”

“It’s not like one of us can dance with him,” Tanger frowns, and Geno bites back the urge to argue. He could, technically, dance with Sid. But he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t.

“Don’t go all ‘no homo’ on me now,” Flower leans on Tanger, pouting at him. “Don’t you wanna dance with your friends?”

“Shut up, I meant cause we’re too tall.” Tanger shoves at Flower, but makes no real move to dislodge the lump of goalie draped over him.

“You’re one fucking inch taller than me, Tanger,” Sid huffs, glaring when Tanger snorts. No matter how many times the team blatantly doesn’t believe him, Sid is staunchly attached to his height illusion. “There’s no point to this, can’t I just go home?”

“No.” Fuck, Geno’s mouth said that without his brain’s input. Some link in the chain has been dissolved by those minty-green shots and Geno can’t seem to reel in the mistake in time. “Can learn, just… come here.” He reaches out across the circle, it’s not much of a distance even with the teammates between them, and closes his hand around Sid’s wrist. The small bit of his brain that’s still logical is yelling for him to stop this but it’s getting fainter and fainter, drowned out by the thumping music and Sid’s warm, solid body as Geno pulls him in close.

“What are you doing?!” Sid demands, but he doesn’t fight it, he lets Geno manhandle him until they’re back-to-chest, Geno’s hands on Sid’s hips.

“Is true, easier with someone, easier to show not tell. We tall, so can’t dance with you other way, but can dance like this.” He starts swaying again, using his hands to make Sid move with him.

“You’re a fuckin’ genius, G,” Tanger declares with a grin. At least two teammates are filming them, no doubt to fuel devastating chirps later, but Geno can’t even care. Flower is also giving them A Look, which can be dealt with later.

“Just close eyes, feel music, move with,” Geno instructs, dipping his head to speak right into Sid’s ear so he can be heard over the rhythm thumping through the speakers. This is a bad idea. Some part of him still knows that, knows how this looks, knows this is going to mean trouble for him when he’s sober. The rest of him, a much larger part, doesn’t care. That part just cares about how well Sidney seems to fit against his chest, how easy and natural it feels to hold him close. He wants so badly to duck his head a little further, to kiss Sid’s neck, to wrap both arms around him fully and keep him from ever moving away. At least he still has enough self control left to keep his hands were they are and just move gently to the beat.

“That wasn’t… so bad,” Sid says into the quiet between songs. They should move apart now, dancing like that for one song was plenty. Should, that word seems increasingly applied to things Geno knows he won’t actually do. He’s warm all over, Sid’s closeness as intoxicating as the shots they’d taken.

“You really gotta use your ass more,” Tanger says, his voice matter-of-fact but his eyes dancing. “It’s your best feature.” Geno agrees, but also feels like he may have a heart attack if Sid follows that advice.

“Fuck you,” Sid says cheerfully, but then he’s pulling away and Geno’s hand tightens reflexively on him before he forces it to relax. Sid’s cheeks are bright red when he turns around but that’s probably just the alcohol. “Thanks, G. You should uh, probably go find a girl to do that with now. Can’t spend all night dancing with your friend, eh?” There’s something off about Sid’s smile and Geno aches to tell him that dancing with him for the rest of the night is exactly what he wants to do, but he shouldn’t. He can’t. So he just smiles and nods and watches Sid retreat to the kitchen again.

“Well, we got, like, ten minutes of Sid actually interacting in a party setting. It’s a record. Good job team,” Flower claps his hands cheerfully, and the group laughs and disperses again. Geno moves through the crowd, dancing with a few others, but his hands still hold the memory of Sid’s warmth.

He slips out early and returns to his dorm, flopping into bed and willing himself to sleep. He refuses to jerk off, knowing he’d think of his captain, his friend. It’s pointless, Sid invades his dreams anyway, warm and solid and smiling. At least his grumpiness at practice the next day is easily written off as a hangover.

**Author's Note:**

> For reference (mainly for me so I can keep my own AU straight) in this fic Sid and Geno are both in their second semester as Sophomores but Geno's a transfer and spent his first year of college in Russia, so he and Sid have known each other ~6 months at this point (but one of those was Christmas break).
> 
> Anyway, you can find me on tumblr @whykidtango or twitter @russiawithgeno!


End file.
